Allegory of the Dream in the Garden

One day a women was walking through the forest when she came across a man entangled in a trap.

When the suffering man heard her approach he focused his dispersed awareness upwards and said "dear women, Ive become tangled in this trap. Can you help me escape?"

She paused and looked intently at the man, and how he was entwined.

Then the women asked "how did this happen?"

The man sighed in confused reflection. Then recounted this saga;

"When I was a child I had a dream in the garden, I appeared in the world, from the boundless field I became unified and spirited.

It was Sudden and surprising. I grew out of this whirling marble, pinned down like a magnet. Sailing through ethereal space, floating among countless glowing orbs in the cosmic ocean. Wandering in the middle of forever.

I awoke and found myself highly conscious in the living breathing garden. I didn't understand and couldn't explain, but I knew it, I felt it. I was it.

I was grateful, and humbled, to be, to love, to experience, the awe and wonder. During the bright days, when the great orb sailed across the clear sky, I could truly see the world. Bands of animate creatures feeding and roaming, blooming flora swaying in the breeze, and all mortal spirits in-between.

The azure seas and tributaries, soaring peaks and tumbling gorges, verdure meadows and deep forests. All reflecting the rainbow of luminous colors. One immense communal interconnected composition.

The illuminated garden morphed into darkness methodically, after the clouded canopy fretted with golden fire. The unfathomable mystery of a dark abyss laid bare. With shimmering jewels painted across the translucent black firmament. And the brilliant white crescent-disc keeping tempo in turn.

The habitual seasons proceeded from pleasant tranquility, to soaking storms and electric fire, to searing drought, Ending in artic freeze, before tracing the round anew.

I Felt ardent passions, Joy and sadness, health and pain, growth and neglect. And all flavors of the alchemical patterns.

I touched the sculpted forms, and temperate textures of the earth. The solid minerals, yielding stalks, and delicate blossoms.

I Heard unnamed sounds and songs; Rhythms and tones. Voices of the wild. Solo hymns, Coupled harmonies, And Melodies in chorus,

I Smelled the fragrant perfumes, seasoned aromas, and wafting odors, subtle and profuse, distinct and combined. I explored the spectrum. Discovered the immense and minute, With wonder and apprehension I roamed, I learned to reflect and ponder,  to imagine, design and fashion, and create all that was essential.

The dream was real for me. I called it sacred, and bowed to the muse.

I created stories for myself to play in and perform. I Carried them with me like a glowing ember through the generations. Lost and found eternally.

But on the last day, I could no longer find myself. And the dream evolved into a nightmare. A kind of shadow emerged, not an archangel, but a spectral transition, with the will to represent paradise.

I feel now that a presence was lost. What exactly I cant remember, like a word on the tip of my tongue. I became enthralled and dazzled by the shadows on the cave wall. I had arisen beyond nature, alone among all the world. Thrown into a brutish storm with omnipotent immortality. And that story has never ended.

Those young enlightened eyes have never seen so wide again. Scarcely through the generations, did I peek though the filter of the atmosphere, Or emerge from the deep rippling ocean like a lotus dragon, Or breach the high wall with a fleeting glimpse.

There I was bound and tangled in the static trap of my lucid dream. Condemned to suffer this fate, along with all those I touched. When at last I had an enlightened vision from the mountain perch of my fiery nightmare. I vowed to write my masterpiece from within this horror. To find a cure for this hurt, And by opposing end it. Rather than be consumed, to overcome.

A heroic epic. To play the savior on the world stage by story's end. To travel the ends of the earth to avenge this abomination. Not to slay another, but to redeem myself.

And so dear women, we have come to your part in the story at last. My waking life has become this dream. I have been hibernating in this last day for all of history. And I do not know which of us is the butterfly. And though I am old and wise, and have everything I need, I am still that child in the garden. I never awoke from that dream. And I remain entangled in this trap."

The women focused her compassionate attention down at the enduring atlas.

She replied "I can see that you have spent your lifetime trapped here. Getting more tangled with every thought and interaction with the world.

It is my sublime role to liberate you from this trap. But even now, at this very moment, you are becoming ever more entangled. So I can not get to the trap, to set you free."

The man long pondered his situation, and truly grasped the depth of his dilemma for the first time.

Then the women said "this being the case, what would you like me to do?"

The man paused, for an eternal moment, and said soulfully "I don’t know, I don’t know what to do."

Then the women exclaimed "Now you are ready. This genuine realization of your situation is the only true place to begin. That is a 10,000 year journey made in an instant. And your dilemma is no longer hopeless."

She pondered to herself silently "How long will this realization last I wonder?"

Then she said "Before I can get you out of this tangled trap, I need just one thing from you.

Think about what you know to be true. Think about what is absolutely certain for you, what you have no doubts about. Think about what everyone should know. Think about your thoughts. Feel them. And compare that with the authentic realization that you just had about your dilemma; that you don’t know."

Then she sat down deliberately, feeling the earth as herself.

She said "breathe in the air, feel it inside your body, it has been traveling since from the beginning of time to be here now, to become part of you. This is the place where all your ancestors reside."

Then she softly gazed at him and their eyes became mirrors,

She said "Do you see? Do you see the tangled trap that you are in? Do you see how everything that happens, only causes you to become further entrapped?

Then the woman delivered the last line in the story "the final step is a paradox."

 

The Dream in the Garden is an allegory of mankind's evolution into higher consciousness.

Its a new account of the human origin story, based on the historical memory, about the actual transition from ape to human, that has been passed down across generations and cultures for thousands of years.

There is little suspense for humanity as the days pass by, and the nights come and go. We are not bewildered, astonished, or humbled by our situation. That we exist. That there is existence. Here, Now.

Most of humanity has never awoken from their slumber for more than an instant. When the felt presence of immediate experience slowly morphs back into an estranged representation.

Suspense at what? Bewildered, astonished, and humbled in the face of what? Its all rather ordinary isnt it? Even trivial.

This is the trap that mankind is entangled in. And nearly everything we do further entraps us.

Remember the mans realization at his dilemma, when he replied soulfully "I don’t know."

That is the starting place. To begin again, and know the place for the first time.